Dmitri Rozenov - The Tale of a Prince Doomed to Die
by Jono101
Summary: This is the LARP Story of Dmitri Rozenov, Prince of Tydaria and Heir to the throne. Hunted by Daemons and ready to fight for what he believes in. This story will be in pieces and a little segmented, updated when more comes out.
1. The Caravan

The cool spring air inhabited every tiny crevasse of the landscape, still brisk from the winter past a mere week ago, but still warm enough for the first flowers and blades of grass to produce their heads from the blanked of snow that covers the countryside of Tydaria – the continent of my birth that contains all 8 kingdoms. This posting is far too trivial for a prince to concern himself with personally; however my father, King Conrad Rozenov, believes that it would serve me well to be more knowledgeable about the populace I will one day rule over.

"My Lord?" A voice to my right sounds; E'lion Icarai, sergeant of the 5th Battalion recruits that rode with me, a 30 man strong party to scout out disappearances in the outer villages.

"Yes, E'lion?' I turn to face him, seeing the unease in his face and his seating on the horse he rode, catching glimpses of the recruits, all uneasy in their saddles, "Is something the matter?"

"The man are getting restless, My Lord." He spoke, nerves biting at his speech, "Many of them wish to make camp or find shelter before arriving at the outskirts." He bit his tongue, fearing the retribution of his superior, his prince.

"We can make it to Erelior before dusk, make camp just outside its walls and if need be, the town is defendable enough," I say directly to E'lion before addressing the entire party "We push on to Erelior, if there are any objections, speak your mind; if not we will make it before dusk." There was some murmuring, but none raised their voice to oppose my command; that's what I hate about some soldiers, when given freedom of Speech, they will not speak against a superior.

I wait a few minutes in wait of argument, meeting non I call the party to continue; the ride to Erelior was long and tiresome, many military tactics were forsaken with the lack of scouting parties or sentries. The slight of storm clouds hung on the horizon, strange clouds of near abyssal black encircled the western horizon, an eerie feeling not too different to fear fell upon my mind; my hand dropped down to the blade at my belt, the familiar touch of my sword, Evil's Downfall, calmed my mind to rational thought. "Tell the men to pick up the pace, send two men ahead to Erelior and another two up in scouting formation," As a raised whisper to E'lion, "Do it quietly thou; I don't want anyone else on edge, its simple military protocol."

"Is something the matter, My Lord?" He inquired in hushed tones.

"We aren't alone in this country side," I respond with a suitable tone, "There's something else out there."


	2. The Tale

"Give the order."

"Yes, My Lord," He calls up four recruits; Leon, Percival, Bianca and Amerai, and he briefed them of the commands I gave; departing quickly but not before sharing some nervous glances between themselves.

"You, recruit, what's your name?" I pulled one of the advance party aside to talk as privately as we can without leaving the party; he reins his horse beside mine; his face about as young as mine, appearing to have seen less combat than I have; his short brown hair waving only slightly in the wind, his blue eyes young and keen to explore the wilderness.

"Leon Perry Sir, I've only been in this squad for a few months." He responds nervously.

"Relax, Leon; there is no need for these formalities." I smile, both to relax him but also to cover my own nerves, "Call me Dmitri."

"But Sargent E'lion calls you My Lord, sir?" The fresh faced recruit inquires, some nerves lifted but still reluctant to say anything.

"Yes, but I've given him plenty of opportunities to drop the title; he has, however, continues to stand by protocol on every occasion; isn't that right, E'lion?" I jest.

"Yes, My lord."

"See what I mean?" I smile, Leon's posture revealing his newfound comfort.

"Yes, Dmitri." He relaxes further, sitting comfortably in his saddle, "I only just transferred here from the 8th Battalion."

"Right, Godspeed on your mission; but be careful, I have a feeling we aren't the only people on this road."

"Yes, sir… I mean Dmitri." He corrected himself; "I'll be careful, you too, I'd hate for something to happen to you all."


	3. The Citadel

"Get down!" I heard a man yell, following a loud crash as another bolt of energy hit the outer walls of the keep, "Brace the gate!"

Surrounding us were dozens of men running towards the main gate, ready for anything that burst through that archway if the wooden defence we pinned our hopes on here to fail. I need to go help, I thought before I took a step down towards the courtyard.

"Dmitri, get back here!" I heard an all too familiar voice tone.

"Sorry, Father" I retreated back to his side, taking up position on the battlements overlooking the main square of the Citadel - the castle of Civitas Solis – preparing ourselves from the ever constant threat from both sky and earth. "Shouldn't I be down there? I can best most of our warriors with a blade; I can help more down there than up here!"

"Do not question my orders," He barked, his voice turned sincere as he said "If you die, there'll be no one to carry the duty of stopping Balthakor."

Balthakor, the Arch-Daemon of the underworld, now sealed in stone at the Centre of Calamity, the dead centre of the United Tydarian Kingdoms; Sealed there when our forefathers raised their blades with Ethelion and Elethion, angelic brothers who gave hope against the Daemonic hordes that now assail our walls once more, just a year before the convergence.

"They're getting through!" Another man called; even from this distance I can see the main gate buckling under the force of the endless tide of monstrosities that inhabit our very nightmares.

"Pull back to the throne room, take the First Battalion and the 5th Battalion recruits with you, he's going to need them" I vaguely heard behind me, I turned to face my father and Icarus the Mighty, greatest of the First Company save the king himself.

"What's happening, father?"

"Just preparing for the worst, son; I suggest you pull back to the Throne Room yourself, I need you to protect its treasures and the relics that are stored there." Said my father, King Conrad the Valiant, mightiest of all members of the Black Knight Order, with a small catch in his throat; He turned back to face the battle, preparing for the worst as Icarus and myself fall back to the throne room; Little did I know that a tear fell down my father's cheek as I walked away.


End file.
